


Who The Fuck Needs Romance, Anyway?

by potter_queen



Series: Gallavich One Shots [1]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:41:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22604893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potter_queen/pseuds/potter_queen
Summary: Basically, Lip makes a stupid comment about Mickey not being romantic, and Ian starts to realise all the ways in which Mickey Milkovich is, in fact, a big ol' softie romantic.Pretty much just an excuse to write about how great Mickey is. I think we can all agree we all need a Mickey in our lives <3
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich
Series: Gallavich One Shots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1634716
Comments: 30
Kudos: 435





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Unedited, and written under the influence of sleep deprivation and far too much caffeine.  
> Enjoy!

_I love you_

It had been several years now since Ian and Mickey had moved out of the Southside. They came back often though, and when they did it was like they had never left.

They were home tonight for big, Gallagher cookout on the street outside the house they had grown up in.

Ian was sitting on the porch steps with Lip, passing a cigarette back and forth between them. They were watching the bonfire that had been set up and chatting about not much in particular; their jobs, Lip’s kid’s new school.

Everyone was here tonight. Even Frank had shown up, dangling a bottle of Jack’s between his fingers. Kev and V were chatting with some other neighbours, Debbie was flirting up a storm with some girl she had dragged along, and the various kids were running around with Liam, who Ian hoped had not roped them into something sketchy.

Ian’s eyes kept falling on Mickey. They always did, no matter where they were. He was like a magnet, pulling Ian’s attention to him. He was standing near the bonfire with Carl, laughing and drinking beer. Carl’s schoolboy infatuation with the infamous Mickey Milkovich had somehow turned into an actual friendship; Mickey got on better with Carl than any of the other Gallaghers.

Ian shivered as he passed the smoke back to Lip. Earlier, the weather had been lovely, warm and sunny and perfect for eating outside. When the sun had set, however, it had gotten pretty chilly.

“Give us that,” Ian demanded, pulling the cigarette back off Lip and taking a drag in a fruitless attempt to warm up. When he looked up, Mickey had appeared in front of him. Ian smiled dopily.

“Hi.”

“Hey. Going for a piss.”

“Have fun,” Ian replied drily. He rolled his eyes at Lip, but smiled when Mickey’s hand rested on the top of his head for a few seconds as he passed.

“Charming,” Lip said, nodding at Mickey’s back. Ian just laughed. Some found Mickey’s bluntness rude, but Ian had always just found it amusing.

A few minutes later, the front door opened again, and the steps creaked as Mickey descended.

“Hey, Shivers, take this.” Mickey dropped Ian’s coat into his lap. Ian looked up in surprise.

“You look like Little Orphan Annie, man,” Mickey grinned and stooped to kiss Ian. “Shivering on the steps in the dark. Honestly.”

Ian grinned and pulled on the warm jacket, sighing in content as his bare skin was covered up. “Thanks, babe.”

Mickey flipped him the bird as he sauntered off back to Carl. Ian watched his husband walk away, appreciating the way the denim of his jeans hugged his ass. When he turned his attention back to Lip, his brother was shaking his head in amusement.

“You know man, I always thought you’d end up with someone more… I don’t know. Romantic.”

Ian frowned. Lip hadn’t criticised Mickey in a long time. Whether that was because he’d accepted that they were serious, or he had grown to actually like Mickey, Ian wasn’t sure.

“The hell are you talking about?”

“Hey! I’m not criticising him, man. Don’t get it twisted. I know he makes you happy. I just always figured what would make you happy would be someone more… well, romantic.”

“Mick’s romantic.”

“Oh yeah,” Lip snorted. “I’m sure he’s real romantic.”

“He is,” Ian insisted, trying to think of a single instance that Mickey had shown he had a romantic bone in his body.

“You’re telling me that Mickey, Mickey Milkovich, buys you flowers? Or chocolates? He makes you candlelight dinners? Flower petals in the bath? He write you love notes?”

Lip was shaking with mirth at this point, and Ian had to punch him in the arm to get him to shut the hell up. “The fuck do I want flowers for, man?”

“Jesus, Ian,” Lip rubbed his shoulder. “I’m just saying.”

“You’re telling me you do that shit for Tami?”

“Well, yeah.” Lip looked at him like he had grown an extra head. “She loves that shit. I gotta, you know, show her I care and shit. I always figured you’d like that shit too, man.”

Lip changed the subject soon after, seeming a little embarrassed that he’d basically admitted he was totally whipped. Ian fell along with the new topic, but in his head, he was still thinking about this whole romance thing.

~

He was leaning against the bathroom door, watching Mickey brush his teeth, when he decided to brach the topic.

“You gonna stand there staring all night?” Mickey asked, smirking around his toothbrush. Ian smirked and moved to stand behind Mickey, crowding him in against the sink. He ran his fingertips up Mickey’s bare sides before slipping his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers and hooking his chin over Mickey’s shoulder.

“Hey, Mick?”

“Mhm?” Mickey had moved on to flossing, which he was weirdly diligent about.

“Do you think we’re not romantic enough?”

“Romantic?” Mickey scoffed, examining something on his floss. “The fuck you talking about?”

Ian wrinkled his nose and shut his eyes to spare himself the visual in front of him. “You know,” he went on. “Like do you think we should buy each other flowers? Or like, chocolates?”

“The fuck you want flowers for, hey? All that shit’s just the Man getting you to spend your money on shit gimmicks you don’t need. I’d rather the cash, thanks.”

Mickey dumped his floss in the trashcan and picked up Ian’s toothbrush, squeezed a blob of toothpaste on top and handed it to Ian.

“Brush,” he demanded. “I don’t want a gummy husband.”

Ian rolled his eyes, but began to brush obediently. When left to his own devices, he forgot to brush his teeth more often than he didn’t. Mickey wriggled out from Ian’s embrace and sauntered back into their bedroom.

“And hurry the fuck up! I want you on me like ten minutes ago.”

~

Despite Mickey’s apparent aversion to romance, Ian couldn’t shake the feeling that Mickey really was a romantic. He felt like that was a fact he knew about Mickey, but he couldn’t seem to think of any examples. Sure, their wedding night had been romantic, but that had literally been years ago. They had never even celebrated Valentine’s Day. Ian wasn’t even sure Mickey knew what date Valentine’s was. Mickey was good on Ian’s birthday, though. Every year he saved up his spending money to take Ian away for a weekend or bring him to whatever overpriced, fancy restaurant had opened up near them recently.

It was a few days before Ian started to realise why he had been so sure that Mickey was romantic.

It started with a carton of cigarettes.

They had both been trying to give up for years. Mickey was doing much better than Ian. He had managed to cut himself down to one a day, which he smoked in the morning when he woke up, tipping the ash into an ashtray beside their bed. When Ian was up early enough they would have their morning cigarette together.

They both looked forward to that morning cigarette. It was Mickey’s last vice, he always said, and he was antsy all day without it. He had gone from smoking a pack a day to just one, and Ian seriously admired him for it.

Mickey was usually long gone in the mornings by the time Ian woke up. His shifts started early. This morning was no different. Ian woke, groggy as usual as a result of his meds, and stretched his hand out across the bed, mourning Mickey’s absence. After a couple of minutes, he sat up, stretching and automatically reaching for the box of cigarettes by the bed.

They only ever kept one box, because Mickey claimed if there were more around, he would end up smoking them. Ian flipped open the box and frowned.

There was one left.

It shouldn’t have been strange, except for the fact that the previous morning, Ian had left the box back on the nightstand with only one left, resigning himself to a smoke-free morning the following day.

But it was still here.

Tears sprang to Ian’s eyes as he pulled the last smoke out of the box. Mickey must have gone without this morning so that Ian didn’t have to.

He ran his hand over Mickey’s side of the bed again, wishing he was there so Ian could kiss him and thank him.

He smoked it gratefully, and somehow it felt even better than usual.

He was just stubbing it out when he realised; that was romantic as fuck.

~

He felt almost smug as he trotted downstairs, like he had proved Lip wrong, even though Lip neither knew or cared. It was such a small thing, definitely not the big romantic gestures his brother had clearly had in mind, but it felt so meaningful to Ian.

When he reached the kitchen, he was humming to himself as he set about making his breakfast. The coffee pot was sitting on the machine where Mickey left it every morning, still warm. Ian flicked on the radio before pouring himself a mug. He took the pillbox out of the cupboard and popped open the Saturday Morning compartment. He washed down the pills with a mouthful of coffee and put it back in its spot. At first, he’d resisted Mickey’s idea to put his meds in the little organised pillbox, but after a few months, he had begrudgingly admitted that it was pretty convenient. It made it easier to keep track. Every Sunday evening Mickey sat down at the kitchen table, opened up all the little plastic windows and carefully fill all the compartments with Ian’s meds, throwing in vitamin B supplements and a multivitamin every second day.

After taking his meds, he opened up the bread bin to make himself some toast, as he did every morning. He wasn’t a big fan of breakfast, but his meds sat better on a full stomach, and toast was by far the easiest option. There were two slices left, prompting Ian to make a mental note to do a grocery run.

It’s when he’s pushing the bread into the toaster that he notices something. Neither of the slices are crusts.

He smiles to himself as he butters his toast and eats it. No, Mickey wasn’t a big romantic gesture kinda guy. He would never come home with bunches of flowers for Ian. Ian would never wake to find love letters by his bed, and Mickey would probably rather gauge his own eyes out than wear matching coupley shit, but none of that mattered to Ian.

What mattered was that Mickey always went without to make sure Ian was comfortable. He noticed when Ian was cold, or hungry or sick and always took care of him.

What mattered was that Mickey loved Ian. He showed him every day, when he rubbed Ian’s feet after a long shift, when he held Ian at night and kissed him so sweetly when they had to say goodbye to go about their separate days. He showed it when he got up extra early on cold mornings to scrape the frost off Ian’s windshield, or when he let Ian eat his last spoonful of dessert when Ian was eyeing it up.

He showed Ian he loved him every fucking day, on the good days and the bad days. No matter what shit life threw at them, Ian knew that Mickey would always be by his side, steadfast and reliable, ready to fight for their life and their love and their happiness. And if that wasn’t romantic, then Ian had no fucking clue what was.

_It means we take care of each other_


	2. Chapter 2

“Jesus, fuck!”

The door slammed and Ian jumped up from the couch, where he was reading and waiting for Mickey to get home.

“Mickey?”

“I swear to fuck, I was this close to killing that son of a bitch today!”

“Woah, easy killer.” Ian reached his husband at the door, finding him angrily stripping out of his work uniform, leaving it in a pile inside the front door, as always. As always, Ian rolled his eyes and diligently picked it up and shook out the creases. Usually, now would be when he would playfully goad Mickey about his messiness, but his husband’s demeanour was so tense he decided to save it for today.

Down to just his underwear now, Mickey was hopping on one foot, pulling off his second sock. His shoulders were tense and his jaw was clenched. 

“Hey, hey. C’mere, baby.” Ian reached out and took Mickey gently by the forearms. Mickey let himself be pulled into Ian, and rested his head on Ian’s chest. He let out a deep sigh as Ian wrapped his arms around his shoulders and rubbed his thumb soothingly over the base of his neck.

“Long day?”

“You have no fucking idea. That stupid prick Dylan slacked off all day. And then his till was off by fifty bucks when we closed up. Fifty bucks! How the fuck does that even happen! I swear, I’d be convinced the dumbass is stealing from the till, but even he’s not stupid enough to try it on my watch. He’s really just so dense he can’t even scan cornflakes right.”

Mickey had been working as a manager in a big, chain supermarket for a couple of years now. It had been the only place he could find work at when he was fresh out of prison, hauling deliveries and empty boxes back and forth all day till he had been promoted to stacking shelves. As the years passed, he had worked his way slowly up the chain to the manager of the place. It wasn’t the most exciting job in the world, but he was damn good at it, and it paid pretty well. He liked the security of it, and the regular hours.

“What are you going to do about him?”

Mickey sighed, long and laboured into Ian’s neck.

“I don’t know. I don’t want to fire the kid, but he needs a serious kick up the arse. I had to go through every sale on his till for the whole day. Gave me a fucking headache.”

Ian frowned and ran his fingers through Mickey’s hair, just the way he knew he liked it.

“You want to go take a shower? I’ll heat up dinner and get some aspirin.”

Mickey nodded and reluctantly extricated himself from Ian’s arms. He took Ian’s chin to kiss him slowly before turning to the stairs. Ian watched his husband’s ass appreciatively as it ascended, then headed to the kitchen to heat up the dinner he had made the previous night so he wouldn’t have to cook twice.

When Mickey reappeared, damp and soft from his shower and wrapped up in the big fluffy dressing gown he always wore around the house, Ian had the meal plated up, two beers open and a headache tablet for Mickey. Mickey smiled softly when he saw it, and crossed the table to wrap his arms around Ian’s neck and kiss him deeply for a moment. Ian’s hand ran up Mickey’s thigh under his dressing gown to settle on his bare ass. Mickey chuckled deeply.

“That’s dessert. You’re not getting any till you’ve eaten all your veggies.”

Ian laughed and pinched Mickey’s ass in retaliation. Mickey swatted at Ian playfully before sitting down to eat.

“Good day?” 

“Yeah, yeah. Not too bad,” Ian replied as he began to tuck into his food. “Nothing too crazy. Although we did get a kid with a quarter stuck up his nose.”

“A quarter?” Mickey laughed around his mouthful of mash potato. “Shit. big ass nostrils. You get it out?”

“Yeah,” Ian replied with a grin. “Pair of tweezers and a shit load of lube.”

They finished their dinner, laughing and chatting about random shit that had happened during the day, and then Ian took Mickey by the belt of his dressing gown and pulled him upstairs for dessert.

~

Lying in bed that night, sated and satisfied, with Mickey curled around his back like a koala, their hands joined in front of Ian’s stomach, the cogs in Ian’s brain started to turn.

Lip’s stupid comment from weeks before resurfaced in his brain. He had long since decided that he was not interested in receiving big romantic gestures, but he couldn’t help the niggling thought in his brain that told him that Mickey might.

After all, Ian had received all that sort of shit in the past. Presents from Kash and fancy dates with Ned, flowers and chocolates from Caleb and Trevor. They had been nice, at the time, but ultimately they were pretty inconsequential. Just little tokens of affection that never meant anything more.

But Mickey had never really experienced that, had he?

Sure, Ian took him out sometimes, to dinner or a movie or even just simply coffee, but they were all just standard dates, which they both enjoyed very much, but weren’t super high on the romance. He tried to think of a time where he really went all out, and he could think of a few, like their occasional romantic getaway, but they were all preplanned by the both of them. 

He ran his fingers over the well-worn tattoos on Mickey’s knuckles, deep in thought. Tomorrow, he decided, he was going to romance the shit out of Mickey.

~

The door slammed, as usual, the next evening when Mickey got home from work. Ian was waiting by the door. 

Mickey looked up in surprise. “Everything okay?”

“Yes,” Ian grinned, his heart beating a little faster than usual with excitement. “Just excited to see you.”

“Oh yeah?” Mickey smiled sweetly. “You too. You look good.” 

“Thanks,” Ian said with a smile. He had left his hair gel free that day, the way Mickey liked it best. “Now strip.”

Mickey raised an eyebrow, and his mouth quirked up in a leering grin. “Bit eager there, Gallagher.”

“Not that. Not yet, anyway. I have a surprise for you.” He held out Mickey’s dressing gown to him, who stripped before pulling it on with a sigh.

“A surprise? What the fuck?”

“Just follow me.” Ian leaned in to kiss him before taking Mickey’s hand and guiding him towards the kitchen. “You hungry?” 

“Yes? What’s going on?”

“Shh,” Ian shushed him with a grin before leaning forward to push open the kitchen door.

He’d decked the place out. The lights were off but he’d lit candles on the table. There was a bottle of Mickey’s favourite red wine on the table, and he’d cooked his favourite meal; steak and chips and pepper sauce. He’d even gone as far as stealing a few of the neighbour’s roses and sticking them in an old pasta sauce jar.

Mickey had stopped in his tracks, and Ian turned to him, suddenly anxious that he would hate it. But when he saw Mickey’s face; soft and wide eyed in the candlelight, he knew he hadn’t fucked up.

“This for me?” Mickey asked softly, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Nah, it’s for the poolboy,” Ian replied with a grin before wrapping his arms around Mickey and kissing his temple. “Course it’s for you.”

“But why?” Mickey asked, baffled. “It’s not our anniversary, is it?”

“No,” Ian chuckled into Mickey’s neck. “Just wanted to surprise you. You’ve been real stressed out at work lately. And, you know. I don’t show you I love you enough. You mean the world to me, Mick. I hope you know that.”

Mickey twisted in Ian’s arms so he could kiss him hotly on the mouth. His eyes were damp with tears, and Ian was wondering why the hell he hadn’t done this years ago. “I love you too, Ian.”

“I know.”

They ate dinner that night holding hands, with their ankles interlocked beneath the table. They drank wine and talked until the candles had burned low. Then, Ian took his husband upstairs to show him the flower petals he had sprinkled on the bed.

They made love that night, feeling closer than ever. Mickey cried when he came, and Ian held him afterwards, whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

It was their own spin on romance, like they put their own spin on everything they did. But if a little romance could make his Mickey smile like that, then Ian thought he could really get on board.

Afterall, everyone needs a little romance, sometimes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I have an exam tomorrow?  
> Yes.  
> Did I write this instead despite the fact that I should definitely be studying?  
> Yes.  
> Do I regret that?  
> No because this absolutely warmed my heart to write and the image of Mickey in a dressing gown is too much to keep in my brain all to myself.
> 
> Comment what you think! Hope you enjoy x


End file.
